


from heart to body (as body becomes heart)

by lightningalwaysreturns



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Comfort/Angst, Declarations Of Love, Depression, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hokage Uzumaki Naruto, Insomnia, Kazekage Gaara (Naruto), M/M, Marijuana, Mental Health Issues, Minor Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto, Multi, OT3, Pre-Boruto Movie, Recreational Drug Use, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slice of Life, cursed canon timeline where neji did that thing in the war that i hate, look gaara is depressed and needs love and kisses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningalwaysreturns/pseuds/lightningalwaysreturns
Summary: The time—that time—had to be close. The emptiness it brought with it radiated from every vein and artery in his body until he felt too hollow to seem real.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from "hoshi no utsuwa" from the last movie theme.

It must've been the middle of the night, judging by the steely blue sky outside and the moonlight turning corners in his room into shadows. 

And yet Gaara hadn't been able to sleep, not even a long wink. He lay in bed, drenched in heavy moon-softened shadows, his breathing slow and shallow. 

That kind of thing wasn't unusual—housing that riotous psyche of Shukaku’s since the day he’d been born, sleep had always been elusive and, sometimes, he even preferred it that way. Restless nights often gave way to additional hours he could devote to his position as Kazekage well past the expected already-astringent demands of the office. 

Tonight, though, like the last few that had passed, Gaara found himself unable to even work through these insomniac spells. 

He rose from bed and padded barefoot to his window, leaned elbows against cool, curved sills as his eyes adjusted to the light just outside. 

Sometimes, he could get away with bothering Shinki, would find his son mostly-awake even at odd hours. Some of Gaara’s favorite antics and conversations had begun that way—checking on his child in the dead of night only to dissolve into smiles (or tears) under watchful stars afterward. 

It didn't feel right or fair to do that right now. Not when he couldn't clear his head enough to see past the fog, much less function despite it. He wouldn't make for good company, anyway. Best to leave Shinki asleep or alone—whichever applied. The last thing he wanted was to subject a child to this piercing, hovering gloom. 

Gaara’s mind wandered again, raw and red-feeling behind his eyes. 

Silence warped the seconds (minutes—hours—) that passed with his face close to the cold window and his eyes trained on luminous dark blue clouds gathered underneath the moon. 

In no time at all, the way it usually happened when he got _like this_ , he found himself contemplating unusual things; this time, it seemed, death. 

Gaara didn't often think of the dead—the lives of thousands of living people depending on him remained at the forefront of his mind most of the time—and when he did, it was usually with his family or fellow villagers in mind. 

But lately, his thoughts seemed to keep settling on someone fifteen years dead, as though he hadn't been forced to accept that fact over and over again for the first few years after it’d happened. 

Neji Hyuga came to mind more and more each night that passed in sluggish, silent seconds—like a ghost or some other haunting, like a photo loved through the ages. 

Gaara missed his friend. 

He also missed so, so much more than that. 

The time— _that time_ —had to be close. The emptiness it brought with it radiated from every vein and artery in his body until he felt too hollow to seem real. 

He of course couldn't think of Neji without thinking of the rest of the family-of-sorts who lived in the Leaf. Of Naruto and Hinata, of Shikamaru and Temari, of Kakashi and the multitudes of others he held dear. 

He was acting like a child, thinking of childish things, dreaming a child’s dream—he knew that much. It didn't change the reality he faced. 

There was a letter he had kept, in a top drawer by the bed—a place no safer than anywhere else but full of curious meaning—blessed with a bleeding stamp from many years ago. The last of a handful sent by Neji. 

(Many’d come attached to Naruto’s, but there were much fewer of those since Naruto—like Gaara—spoke more clearly with actions than they ever could with words. And then technology caught up with them, eventually, overtaking letters in a way that Neji never even got to experience; he’d died so young...)

The number of times in Gaara’s life he'd had to remind himself that shinobi die—even ones who, by all rights, _shouldn't_ —increased with each day since he'd crossed that letter again. 

His attention circled it, touched then darted back as if afraid to sink too deep should he think on it longer than a second. 

He let out a soft sigh against the window. His breath barely appeared, gossamer on the glass. 

The climbing fever clinging to the underside of his skin, then, must've been in his head. 

(But then again. Wasn't it always?)

***

_Neji brought the letter to him not long before Pain, not long before the world stood poised to pitch straight to hell, when things were hectic but still somehow hopeful…_

_(Somehow? He knew exactly how. That guy…)_

***

Gaara got dressed after checking the time—4:30 am—and headed for the greenhouses. 

The wind washed through his hair, over his face, eager and desert-cool as it filled his lungs the same way it dipped down into the crater where the village sat. He barely blinked despite that, though, moving on muscle memory alone to the wide fields of flora which they'd carefully cultivated in front of the greenhouses standing silent and silver-lighted side by side in the dark. 

His feet were careful pacing between the plants. Breezes passing by made it feel as though leaves, fingers, reached out to brush his ankles and calves. For some reason, it seemed the only thing he could feel at all. 

It was definitely _that time_. Probably. Gaara could never tell, not exactly, just… experience. And hope to catch the signs before it affected his work and relationships too much. 

Nothing had been _appearing_ off lately, but then again, he was feeling like this, and he had for so long that he hadn't even noticed until tonight. 

No matter how acclimatized he'd become to constant, chaotic exhaustion, even Gaara could only last so long before something gave. With his thoughts filled with that final letter sent to him by Neji over a decade ago, it was only a matter of time. 

Pale light framed the edges of a cloud as it passed in front of the moon when he reached glass doors. 

The same moon was visible over Konoha—did anyone there stare up at it the way he did? 

Gaara shivered under shadows before finally stepping inside the last greenhouse in the row, all the way left. 

***

_The Shinobi Union—which made the daily struggle seem worth it even when all the little battles of the day had been lost—had started with the first alliance, the strongest: between Konohagakure and Sunagakure._

_They worked together quite well, in political, military and even domestic spheres, once the dust of their initial conflict had settled. Tsunade and Gaara saw eye-to-eye on many if not most issues, and they shared a deep-seated desire to protect the bonds that Naruto had forged but also that they all tempered every day, for the sake of what amounted to the world._

_Their shinobi, too, dovetailed well; came to rely on each other more so issues could be resolved diplomatically._

_And they cooperated almost on the regular, even at the start, before any of the other nations wanted anything to do with wide-scale peace._

_Like Kakashi had told him once, what felt like quite a long time ago now,_ The more problems we face together, the stronger our bond will become. _For this reason and many more, joint missions increased between the two villages._

_So the sight of Neji standing in the Kazekage Office before Gaara in his mission gear had likewise grown into a more common sight over the past few years._

_His eyes. His smile. His cool, gentle light._

***

Sweltering warmth dawned around him, and dim yellowish mounted lamps lent the space an ambiance that didn't intrude on his eyesight despite coming in from the hard night darkness.

Gaara walked forward, numb to the beauty that surrounded him, the narrow path under his feet guiding him to the back of the greenhouse, where he went through another door—this one wooden, solid, and leading to a tiny private closet that he'd sequestered for himself. Mostly. Kankuro paid it more visits than he did these days, and anyone was welcome to the plants that budded there. It’s simply that so few did, it may as well have been private. 

Gaara’s eyes adjusted again to the change of lighting due to the induction lamps that lit the flowers. Climate control kept the grow room comfortable though still warm compared to the cold desert night-winds. He didn't register much, either way. The numbness had sunken down into his bones, stuttering through cells, pressing against his skin. 

His fingers twitched then clenched into fists at his side; he stepped further into the small room and reached for where curating buds sat on a shelf to the side. 

Any would do. 

After he’d gathered a few handfuls of green, he capped the jar and replaced it on the shelf with trembling fingers.

Was he getting worse? He didn't feel any differently than he had when he left, but—well— _fuck,_ his heart hurt...

Gaara packed his flower away and left. Somehow, he made it home. Cold nose and chapped lips warmed again as he shuffled out of his shoes at the entrance before arriving in the kitchen. 

He paused, turning the corner. A light was on. 

“Kankuro?”

His older brother sat at the dining table with a half-glass of sake that he tossed back before bothering with a greeting. Then he grinned, gave a single wave of his hand, said, simply, “Yo.”

The sight of Kankuro at his kitchen table at who-knew-what-hour made Gaara feel young suddenly—younger than he'd felt in decades, though all his life he never truly felt his age. 

Over 30 years, he’d spent in this life when he never thought he'd even get half as far…

“You're lookin’ lively, little brother, _ja_.”

Gaara blinked and forced himself to go to the counter, where he braced himself against the edge. 

The details of that damned letter pressed at his mind, and he almost let it—welcomed it, in fact—worn too thin to turn away anymore. 

To be the words of such a long-dead man, Gaara recalled Neji’s letter all the way down to the punctuation. It was ruining him. 

Kankuro’s next words were pitched low, spoken softer than he'd dare to spare most anyone else aside from his family. “Didn't think you’d be out this early.”

Early?

Gaara shifted away from the counter with considerable effort and checked the time. 6:00am. 

Where had the _time_ gone?

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair—his fingers snagged on a couple small tangles—and he turned to face Kankuro. “Lively, huh,” he echoed.

At that, Kankuro’s grin returned, tempered by his sarcastic remark striking closer to home than he'd realized. His face, kabuki-painted as usual, settled into somber lines. 

Gaara nodded at the empty glass on the table. “No livelier than you,” he said, unpocketing the bud he'd picked. “If you have a while, I'll make you tea.” He set some water to simmer in a kettle on the stove. 

“Tea? Sure.” Kankuro eyed the bud on the counter. “I wondered where you’d gone. Plants lookin’ good?”

“You don't know?” Gaara found a grinder next to the sink and uncapped the lid, stuffed pulled-apart pieces of bud between its teeth. 

Kankuro shrugged. “Been busy, so can't say I do. Why else do you think I helped myself to your alcohol? Thanks, by the way, _ja_.”

Some of Gaara’s listlessness lifted as he gathered ginger tea, coconut oil, two mugs, a metal tea ball and a small bowl and wooden spoon. 

“You can take the rest with you, if you want,” he said. 

He ground up the bud, focused fingers grateful for tasks to occupy body if not mind, then dumped it into the bowl with some coconut oil and got to mixing. 

“Aah, still haven't got much of a taste for it, huh?” Kankuro said. 

Gaara glanced up to stare Kankuro down; he knew Gaara couldn't stand the taste of the stuff. 

Kankuro laughed—not his usual boisterous laugh but robust enough to enrich the space between him and Gaara. “Yeah, well, you can keep it. I have enough of my own. I was just bored waitin’ on you to show back up, _ja_.”

“You, bored. Imagine.”

“I was about twenty seconds away from tearin’ through the village to find you.”

“The truth comes out…” Gaara mused. 

The marijuana mixture came together perfectly, so he spooned it into the tea ball, placed that in the simmering water and cleaned everything up before joining Kankuro at the table. 

Kankuro’s eyes were serious over the half-dead grin he still wore. “Can’t help it. Little brother,” he added, warm-edged. “Sometimes, you disappear, and I know you're safe. Sometimes…”

Sometimes, Gaara got himself involved in one-on-one battles with notorious criminals that ended up with him captured—then killed. 

He could forgive occasional bursts of overprotectiveness, especially after _that_ , and especially without Temari nearby to do the other half of the mother henning anymore. In fact, despite the fact he needed it less and less over the years, that very overprotectiveness had kept him safe, settled, often sane. 

Even that barely reached him through the soft sting of static covering his brain, though. 

Gaara rubbed his eye. “I’m here,” he said, “safe and sound, so…”

“So, good, _ja_.” Kankuro leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, lost the smoothness of his tone. “Because I wanted to let you know that you're _going_.”

He didn't mean to, but Gaara may have glared at Kankuro. “Going where?” he asked. Already knowing. 

Kankuro played it straightforward as always. “Gaara. The children are concerned.”

That cooled him all the way down. 

As much as he couldn't stand to worry his brother, with Araya, Yodo and Shinki, it was even worse. Father, Sensei, Lord Kazekage—no matter what they called him, their last worry should be him. 

“They came to you?”

“Shinki did, and he was right to. How’ve you been sleeping?”

Gaara didn't answer, which spoke volumes. 

“So go, Gaara. You need it. That’s _okay_.”

“The village—”

“Won't fall apart without you in a week, _ja_.”

“A week…!” Gaara shook his head. If he went, it was never so long as a week. Three days max, and only then to cushion official business visits. How could he justify leaving for so long without an official reason? 

None of his qualms caught on to Kankuro, though, who shook his head right back at Gaara. 

“No, see, you're not gettin’ it. Everything's been taken care of already. All you have to do is show up at the train station at five o’clock and board.”

“Kankuro.”

“Ga-ara.”

“That's unreasonable and unrealistic. I have to work—and the team—”

“It's cool, you didn't get me the first time. All right, let's try this again. Everything’s been handled already, and _you are going_. I can escort you if that's what you really want, _ja_.”

“Don't be an ass.”

“Don't be dense. I've got the kiddies covered and the Kazekage on speed dial if anything unexpected pops up. Not that I’d dare, but you seem to need the reassurance…” Kankuro lifted his shoulder in an insouciant shrug. 

Gaara, again, found his reply in the silence that slipped between them, his eyes falling to the tabletop. He frowned. 

In any case, Kankuro didn't seem perturbed by his resistance at all. How bad must he have gotten…?

“Your family isn't only here, Gaara. Shit, they're my family, too. You never throw this much of a fit when I or anyone else goes. And _he’s_ there. And _those two_. Let them smother you for a little while, _ja_. It's been long enough. You can afford the time away. Take it. _Take care._ ”

His voice drew Gaara’s eyes back to his face. 

“Besides, Temari’s already expecting you, so it's pretty much ironclad, at this point.” A sly smile graced Kankuro’s lined lips, lifting the lilt in mood. 

“You'll never leave that office.”

“Not true, but I'll manage either way. It’s not like you run this village singlehanded. Give your staff some credit, _ja_.”

Gaara’s shoulders hiked a bit—he did tend to overburden them sometimes, even if he wasn't nearly as bad about it as a certain other Kage he knew. 

Just the thought of him made his fingertips tingle. Pins and needles flooding rejuvenated heartstrings.

Now that the option had been presented, the temptation to take it spiked like a low fever under his skin, as if he wasn't suffering enough already. 

“Okay,” he said, finally, simply. 

“Okay?” The way Kankuro’s face brightened may as well have been another light in the room. “Because I have something I want you to give Shikadai. He’ll love it.”

“Not another puppet.”

“You're one to talk. At least it's not kinetic sand and cactus shit, _ja_.”

“He loves my gifts.”

“Yeah, okay. If it makes you feel better to believe that lie, go on and believe it.”

They spent the last few minutes waiting for the tea to finish simmering by debating the validity of given gifts—and trading task outlines for the week to further flesh out once the day had fully begun—before Gaara stood to prepare the rest. 

It had to cool for a few minutes more before they could drink it without scalding their insides, so Gaara added the bags of ginger tea, some honey (heaps of sugar, for Kankuro) and a touch of milk and finished cleaning everything else before bringing the mugs over to the table. 

Kankuro glanced up from his phone when he did, tucked it back away.

“Thank you—oh, wow. This smells amazing, what the hell…?”

Gaara half-shrugged. He made cannatea quite often; it wasn't anything special. 

Kankuro’s bighearted warmth pierced through more of the full-body veil that cloaked Gaara’s insides. Though it also highlighted the fact that he didn't get to simply sit and talk and _relax_ with his big brother anywhere near often enough. 

A morose thought, to be sure, but it had been that way for years. Too many, in fact. 

He aimed to change that—as soon as he returned. 

***

_The two-man team Neji captained stepped outside the office, and, to be honest, Gaara expected Neji to follow them without saying anything outside of the mission parameters they'd just discussed._

_Sure, they saw each other slightly more frequently, but that didn't mean much—and it didn't leave an awful lot of room for levity, either._

_They were at work and short on time._

_(As usual.)_

_After a single, slow second, Neji stepped closer to the desk that Gaara sat behind, alone in a mere nominal sense what with ANBU on standby at all times._

_Still, it was as close to alone as they’d gotten in a quite a while._

_Gaara didn't know why, but that fact weighed on his mind as Neji reached into his pack and withdrew a small scroll for Gaara to take._

_His name had been penned in careful reddish lettering on the front._

_“Since the mission is supposed to take two weeks, I figure I can give this to you now and receive your answer once we return,” Neji said. The letter trembled in his outstretched hand despite his face remaining neutral, his half-smile blank._

_Gaara took hold of it. “Do your best, Neji,” he said, suddenly, but softly._

_“You can count on me.”_

_A standard farewell, by all means._

_That nevertheless sank deep into a space in his mind where it made a home._

***

As arranged, at 5 pm, Gaara hugged Shinki and Yodo against his middle—Kankuro and Araya hung back at the boarding gate, playing some game or another—then hefted a modest overnight bag in his hand and boarded the train. 

He’d have loved to drag Shinki with him, but the team had training to get to, and no one else even appeared interested in tagging along. They wanted him to go alone. 

The ride wasn't long; only a few hours, compared to the three day trek it used to take by foot, but it gave him plenty of time to think. 

He’d spent most of the day with Kankuro and Shinki, very high for a few hours and then slowly not, making sure all the bases were covered. The last time he’d been away from the village alone and for so long… well, who the hell knew when that had been?

His phone pulsed. A text. From Shikamaru. 

_Dinner’s with us tonight. Your sister’s orders._

Gaara felt his face warm. He ached to bury it in Temari’s shoulder at the mention of her. 

( _Such_ childish things…)

Eventually he pulled a page from Yodo’s book and popped in some earphones to distract himself. He felt more level than he had in some time (throwing relief over just how low he must've sunken without even knowing), but the tremble in his hands, head and heart had returned as soon as he came down off his high. 

He clasped his fingers together and tucked them between his knees for the duration of the ride. 

***

_“You’re here.”_

_It had been two weeks. Almost. As usual, Neji outperformed himself, completing the mission early and with minimal incident. His team opted to spend the evening in town while he hovered, alone in a rented room, waiting for Gaara to get some free time._

_When he pulled the door open to find Gaara behind it—a scroll clutched half to death in one hand—relief lit his answering smile._

_The same relief that echoed in Gaara._

_Finally, they were here. Door locked, nerves alight, two feet apart. Together; alone._

_Anxious, but eager, too._

_Gaara’s throat tightened around his reply. “Yes.”_

_Neji’s eyes drifted down to the letter in Gaara’s hand. Long trails of hair slid across his face as he did. “Would this happen to be for me?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“May I have it?”_

_“Yes.”_

_His fingers brushed Gaara’s as they grasped the scroll before setting it aside on a nearby desk. The ink of his name written across the front faded in the barely lit room._

_“Then,” Neji said, “I suppose this means you got a chance to read my letter?”_

_“Yes.”_

_It felt like the only thing Gaara could say, head wrapped in haze as it was. He hadn't the faintest what his face must look like; something dumbfounded, probably._

_“Your answer, Gaara?” Neji’s voice went low, half-smile gone, eyes so intent that the room around them vanished._

_They stood near the window, brushed warm blue along their sides as the sun fell beyond the horizon. A nearly physical tension snapped hot in the small space between them, and the whole world narrowed all the way down to just that, just them._

_“Yes.”_

_There was so much Gaara didn't really get about attraction—most of it, to be honest—but sometimes when he came around certain people, the words altogether fell away from his mind, along with everything else, which mattered more than simple definitions and connotations._

_Neji was one of those people._

_He stepped closer to Gaara. Not close enough to touch, but if he reached out even a little bit…_

_“I'm not him,” Neji said. “I don’t have any interest in pretending to be.”_

_Despite his words, the play of his eyes didn't change. He actually stepped closer._

_If he was hoping to somehow dissuade Gaara with that information, he didn't stand a chance of it. Not when Gaara had spent the last almost-two weeks garnering the guts to give just the response he wanted._

_“I know.” He tilted his chin up in a false show of confidence that made him feel weaker rather than bolder—but he pressed on regardless, grateful the knot between his collarbones eased somewhat when his fingers found the cuff of Neji’s sleeve, wrapped up right in it. “You explained that in your letter.”_

_Tremulously, Neji’s mouth turned up at the corner. “I did.”_

_“So then—”_

_“So then you're sure you're okay with it being me?”_

_Blood pounded in Gaara's head, loud enough to disorient him. Why was Neji doing this to him? He’d_ said _yes. He couldn't think of anything else to say._

 _Except for a single, slight “yes,_ please _.”_

_An odd feeling burned sharp at his ears and cheeks and down his chest, and he closed his eyes against it, afraid to do much of anything anymore with his whole heart peeled open, bleeding between the cracks in his ribs._

_The person he had been then didn't understand. Even now, he couldn't find too much of a reason for it, just took it at face value as two fumbling teenagers trying to fit into their new adult skin, navigate each other in a sea of circumstance._

_It only lasted a second, anyway._

_The rest belonged to Neji._

_Warmth and light in a press of lips that Gaara wished would never end; incandescent, his night-long first._

***

Gaara jolted out of his reverie just as the train pulled to a stop at Konoha Station. He tugged the music from his ears and gathered his things to leave. 

The sight of Hinata standing on the platform, Himawari hugged close to her leg but clearly engaged in a mobile game, caught Gaara off-guard. He even found himself checking around the station for others she might be there for, but when his eyes snapped back to her, it was him she waved to, smiled at. 

Slight. Sweet. Sleek. She glowed in that subtle way of hers, like a flower under stars. 

His chest tightened. He marched toward her without thought, as though drawn by firelight. 

“Gaara,” she said when they were within speaking distance. 

He didn't stop there. 

A vague little voice—Himawari, finally noticing his proximity—gasped in excitement, but he only noticed Hinata’s as he leaned down to take her into his arms. 

It wasn't something he always did. They gave each other different things, links between lives that neither of them pretended to hide. Navigating this, at the start, had been a trick of miracles that they managed. But needing her—Hinata, not Naruto’s wife, not Neji’s sister, _Hinata_ —had its own void in his soul that wrapping around her helped to smooth over. 

He breathed in the faintly floral smell of her almost to the brink of tears and waited for the pain to lessen. About a second passed, and then she wrapped strong arms right back around him, their bodies pulling closer together under streetlights. 

“Welcome home, Gaara,” she said. One hand lifted to slide through the hair at the back of his head. 

Gaara stopped just short of crushing her to him when he felt little hands tug at his trenchcoat. He nodded against her hair and left the quick ghost of a kiss there before stepping back to catch her eyes. 

_Thank you_ , he said with his own. 

If he tried to open his mouth to say the words right now, there was no telling what would come out. 

He already felt better, though, and hoped to settle soon enough to talk to her properly. 

“Uncle Gaara! Hug me, too!” Himawari raised her arms to help guide him to her. 

A brief laugh broke through the remaining tension in his body as he reached down and squeezed her to his middle. 

“Okay, Hima,” Hinata said. “We should get going before it gets any later.”

“Hold my hand?” Himawari turned bright blue eyes and a hopeful smile on Gaara. 

“I would like that,” Gaara said. He took Himawari’s hand with one of his own and made to grab his bag with the other before Hinata beat him to it, a smug smile on her face, their exchange complete. 

And he knew better than to try and argue the point—to her, in particular. 

They left the station. 

Konoha at night had the same glow as Suna though that’s not what made the village feel so much like home. It had less to do with the wind spinning restless between the trees and more to do with the woman walking at his side, the house she steered them to without even breaking step, the shower she offered him, the room she had prepared for his stay. 

Another bout of tears threatened to overtake him at the mere thought, light slowly working around the edges of whatever gaping wound had sprouted inside his brain, his bones, his _blood_. 

Hinata settled him, climbed on the bed behind him to rub love and lilting laughter right into his skin, then sent him off to his sister’s with a kiss. 

***

“Gaara!” Despite the easygoing tone, Shikamaru’s put-upon longsuffering face answered the door. “You’re late, as usual, I see.”

Gaara had the decency to blush. His shower had run longer than anticipated when the heat that hit his skin left him gasping and oversensitized, shaking from the return to safer headspace. He was still incomplete. 

And then he had decided to give Shinki a call on the walk over—both to get some fresh air and before it’d be too late to do so—which he’d only just ended. 

“Forgive me,” he said. 

Shikamaru shrugged. “Consider yourself forgiven. Well, come in. Food’s still hot, at least.”

Gaara followed him inside, slipped out of his shoes at the entrance and got about five steps into the house before a shorter, black-haired clone of his sister materialized in the way.

Her son, Gaara’s nephew, Shikadai. 

He had a light jacket in his hand and an expression somewhere between apprehension and excitement. “You’re here!” 

“I am,” Gaara said, kneeling. “And I brought something for you.”

Shikamaru chuckled as he walked past them into the living room. He dropped his hand to the top of Shikadai’s head along the way. 

Predictably, with that attitude so much like his father’s, Shikadai feinted from underneath him and delivered the classic “what a drag” akin to a curse. 

Gaara watched, bemused. He pulled his gift from a jacket pocket, curled his fingers around it. 

Shikadai’s small grin, when he turned back to Gaara, seemed to mirror Gaara’s own. 

“So, what is it this time?” Shikadai asked. His eyes fixed on Gaara’s outstretched hand. He reached to accept it as easily as anything. 

Gaara unclenched his fist to drop a thin silver chain with a small-faced watch for a pendant into Shikadai’s palm. He had discovered it among his mother’s things a while ago—come to think of it, probably around the time when he’d begun to lose his grip—but hadn't known what to do with the dainty necklace. Wore it, for a time, trapped beneath the collar of his trenchcoat. It didn't bring him any more peace than knowing he had his mother’s love, though, so gifting the momento to Shikadai meant more than shelving it somewhere again. 

Having no idea of its significance, of course, when Gaara turned Shikadai about by the shoulders to place the necklace around his neck, Shikadai grabbed the pendant and studied it for a moment. 

“What is this?” he asked, unimpressed but not ungrateful. 

“I’ll tell you a little story later. Let’s not keep your mom waiting any longer.”

Shikadai accepted the response with a half-disappointed look on his face, and together they braved entering the dining room. Gaara left him there to find Temari and Shikamaru sharing a drink in the kitchen where everyone’s dinner plates had been put together, set out on the counter as amazing as usual. 

The food wasn't what had him stopped in his tracks. 

(Nor was it the abrupt recollection of Yashamaru that flickered the in corner of his conscience. The first glimpse of Temari always seemed the trigger that in him, due to their resemblance.)

Shikamaru had one hand tucked behind Temari’s back as she drank from his glass, with a light in her eyes that Gaara could only describe as _serrated_ , but the energy between them was so calm and self-assured that he almost stepped back out of the room. 

He didn't have an awful lot of examples to follow when it came to marriage and romance. His own love life felt half-borrowed most of the time, and even that seemed more a result of him clumsily clinging to first loves who, for some reason, put up with him all this time. His parents—well, they had their legacy. His father never remarried after his mother’s death, but that didn't set any kind of precedent Gaara wanted to emulate. The closest he could find were in the small moments Temari allowed others to see when she was with Shikamaru, like this; _comfortable_. Something tender and right that fit over them both. 

She caught sight of Gaara out the corner of her eye, noticing him after a prolonged second, the serrations vanished from her gaze as it shifted to a different kind of light. Still love, though, and so familiar that Gaara lowered his eyes away from it. 

Away from the way it made him feel too young. Away from the memories of her lingering stare on his face when their father forced them apart as children. 

“Gaara…” Temari was in front of him in moments. Her hands reached down to cup his face and bring it up to hers. She smelled a bit like alcohol and a lot like dinner but, under that, the same sharp citrus scent of ozone he always associated with her. 

Just as he'd wanted to—as he feared he would—Gaara found himself with his head bowed against Temari’s shoulder. 

She let him. “You've been gone a long time, huh?”

Gaara didn't answer—couldn't yet—but Shikamaru, as always, knew exactly what to do. He lay a hand on Gaara’s shoulder as lovingly as any touch from Kankuro and teased him just as easily, too. 

“Well, you're home now. That’s what matters. No reason to let the food get cold.”

A single shiver ran through Gaara; he picked his head up, met with warm twin stares from his siblings, their smiles slight but full of understanding. 

This was a love that he knew better than any other: between them, unwavering—never left unsaid. 

It calmed the pain squeezing close to his heart. 

He glanced away for a second before returning to Temari’s face. “Right.”

Temari let out a sigh. Her smile blossomed, eyes shut. “Let’s set the table.”

***

_Neji stopped first._

_Without him, Gaara fumbled a bit, collapsing back against the desk as his head continued to spin from scattering sensations. He grasped the edge of the desk with one hand while the other automatically darted to his mouth._

_White eyes caught the movement, but Neji only watched as Gaara ran hypersensitive fingers across his lips. The thunder of his heartbeat pulsed there._

_The air in the room slowly cooled his head, giving him space to breathe for the first time in—forever._

_“Are you okay?” Neji asked._

_Gaara didn't know how to answer that. His face was flushed from racing blood already, and now his throat clenched whenever he tried to swallow. He let his hand fall to his collar, push the unease there away._

_“I’m sorry,” said Neji._

_“No—I…” Gaara breathed in deep to gather himself. “I’m fine. I just…” A creeping blush resurged across his neck and cheeks, reminding him of a few moments ago, how radiant the heat of his skin felt against his clothes with Neji pressed so close to him. “Shit.”_

_Neji seemed to get it then. “You've never been kissed before.”_

_Frustrated with himself, Gaara glanced away but at least managed to stand on his own._

_That stupidly endearing half-smile of Neji’s rang clear in his voice. “So… you and Uzumaki_ don't _do this…?”_

_“Of course not.” Gaara met his eyes again._

_Neji had his arms crossed, and he looked somewhere between amused and annoyed, his hair falling in front of his face as he captured Gaara’s gaze. “Why would that guy ask such a thing then?”_

_Gaara had a guess that he decided to keep to himself for now. Naruto Uzumaki—he could be absentminded but never cruel or insincere, and Gaara knew better than anyone just how perceptive, too._

_“He knew you would,” Gaara said._

_For a change, Neji was the one who had to search for words. “I apparently have a hard time denying him much.”_

_Gaara knew the feeling. Thoroughly._

_It made him think…_

_He took a step toward Neji, his hand reaching through hesitance for the other’s chest. “Then you, too. You’re…”_

_Some of Neji’s confidence fell away at the touch. His expression slackened into soft lines._

_“You're in his heart, as well.”_

_That much was clear._

_Neji said, “So are you.”_

_“It’s a big heart.”_

_“Too damn big.”_

_“Perhaps. But you're not him.”_

_“No.” Neji’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not.”_

_“So that was for him. Please give it to him for me.” Gaara stepped closer. His fingers tightened around Neji’s shirt at his chest. “This is for you. Will you accept it?”_

_A shuddering breath, then, “Yes.”_

***

It was almost enough to make him feel whole again, being surrounded by the laughter of his family in such a carefree way as they ate and—after sending Shikadai to bed for the night—drank until the moon reached its peak. 

Shikamaru retired around then, stating a certain workaholic as his reason for having to get up early but not before making Gaara promise to return when they had more than a few short hours to spare. Gaara agreed; he did have Kankuro’s gift to give Shikadai, anyway, which he’d left at the Uzumaki’s, and he had all week. 

For another hour more, he helped Temari clean up after the meal while she stuck slyly close to him, her smile never far and her eyes always kind. 

He adored being one of the handful of people who knew so well this side of the kunoichi known as the cruelest of them all. That moniker of hers came later in life, though, because to him, she was just his concerned older sister, shrewd and watchful—cautious of who she trusted her love to. Like him. 

This. He had missed this. Missed her. 

They wound up on the porch around one in the morning as Temari finished the last of her after-dinner drink and Gaara loaded his pipe. Without it, he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, either. 

“Did you want to stay?” Temari asked. She toed the grass beneath the deck with her bare feet and leaned her shoulder against his. “That smells good.”

Gaara passed her the pipe, blew a lungful of weed smoke up into the star-speckled sky. Lights from the village drowned out most of the light from above, but here at the Nara house, close as it was to the sacred woods where their deer ran free, more of them became visible. Especially at this time of night. 

“Are you tired? I can leave,” he said. 

Temari took the smoke into her lungs then released it into the night, smooth as ever. “You don't have to, is my point. You’re welcome to stay.” She passed the pipe back. 

Gaara stayed silent as he accepted it. 

“It’s still like that for you, then, huh?” Temari said. “Honestly, Gaara, you're so hopeless sometimes.”

He faced her without interrupting. 

“I’m a little amazed you three haven't figured this out yet, but if you ask me, you may as well make it official. Everyone else has it parsed out, and here you are, hiding from him at your sister’s house.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Oh, _yeah_? Then have you been to see him yet?”

“...No.”

“You should. You could do it right now—the guy sleeps about as much as you these days, according to Shikamaru.”

His concerned thoughts darted to Hinata first before he pulled them back. It wasn't worth troubling Temari over any further. 

“Please don't worry about me. I’ll be all right.”

“Sure, we can get back to that any old time, I guess, since you seem satisfied to let yourself suffer alone.”

Gaara frowned at Temari. 

She winked and put a finger to his brow, conscious of the tension he held there. “I guess you'll do things your own way like you always have. Just so long as you know we have each other’s backs, no matter what.”

“Always.”

“I wanted to ask you something else, anyway.” Suddenly, her eyes turned serious, and she leaned away from him. “That necklace you gave Shikadai. It's Mother's, isn't it?”

“You recognize it?”

“Just barely. I think I saw Yashamaru with it after she’d died…” Her words gentled as she spoke. 

Gaara took another hit and passed the pipe again. He started to feel lighter, fuzzy around the edges. Calmer. 

“Is it okay,” he asked, “that I gave it to him?”

“No, it's fine. More than fine. I'm glad you did. I have a hard time figuring out what’s important to him, sometimes. You know—what will keep him grounded. I like that something from back home could be that for him. I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you.” She smoked. 

“It’s nothing. Shikadai is an amazing child and promising young shinobi. You don't have much to worry about there.”

“I-I know that! I’m his mother! Jeez. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. Please take this back.” Temari shoved Gaara’s pipe into his hands. 

“Aah, Temari, have you had too much to drink?”

“Maybe. It doesn't take much anymore, these days. I'm so _tired_.”

That sparked Gaara’s attention. “Are you taking care, Temari?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him off. “I don't need my little brother worrying about me. I have a husband for that.” A playful note slithered into her tone as she returned to leaning against Gaara’s shoulder with her own, their faces close and her smile sly. “You might think about doing much of the same for yourself, you know.”

Gaara nearly choked on smoke. “Temari! That's not funny.”

“Who made a joke?”

“You said you'd drop this.”

“Did I? Hmm.” Temari reclined on her hands with her eyes to the sky. They closed as she breathed in, out. 

Her profile looked tranquil to Gaara. Unburdened. Or, rather, at peace with her burdens and unbothered by them. It was a look he could trust. 

“Huh?” Temari blinked long and slow at his face. “What's that expression for?”

“Nothing at all. I think it's time for me to go home now.” He stood. 

“Oh? Give those two my best, will you? I feel like I hardly ever see them anymore.”

He blushed at the realization that he'd said as much out loud, but the night and Temari’s buzz at least hid that much from her. Besides that, if there was anyone he would be comfortable with knowing how much that meant to him, it would be Temari. 

She stood, as well, put her hands to his shoulders. “Before you go…” Her lips touched his forehead, which he bowed in thanks to her. “Goodnight. Gaara. I love you.”

Warmth spread throughout his chest, reaching almost deep enough to soak into his sore, sad bones. Almost…

“Thank you. I love you, too. Goodnight.”

***

_“Can I ask you a question?” Gaara stood by the window, arms crossed, watching as the color of the sky deepened into cold dark blue._

_Neji was nearby, not quite close enough to touch unless he reached out. “That's not like you.”_

_“You don't have to answer.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Back then…” Gaara searched his heart for which words to pick first in the sea of them swirling around his head. If this were the only night they’d get... “During the chunin exams—Konoha’s—when you fought Naruto… what you said about your family and father… there was such darkness in your eyes. You wrote a little about it in your letter, but you didn't mention what had changed.”_

_Neji held in check a startled response, but Gaara didn't miss the way his fists clenched then loosened again._

_“You were paying attention during that time? I seem to remember you being a bit preoccupied.”_

_With bloodlust and malice that he would never be done trying to atone for—yes, yes. A knot swelled in Gaara’s gut at the memory, but it eased as Neji continued._

_“Darkness, you say. I did have such darkness in me, then. I wonder if, even without knowing the truth behind my father’s death, just his words alone were enough to pull me up. I think so…”_

_Gaara straightened his shoulders, listening intently._

_From the corner of his eye, Neji noticed, as usual; being the center of focus for those perceptive eyes filled Gaara with a strange sense of security._

_The way he felt around people who had saved him._

_(The way he felt around Naruto Uzumaki.)_

_“I had been so bitter for so long that I just gave up, at some point. That's what I told myself, anyway. It didn't matter that I was called genius or that I considered myself unrivaled—I was miserable and angry all the time, and he was… him. You know. That guy…” Neji smiled, so soft and fond that Gaara ached to witness it. “I still remember the way he spoke to me in the middle of the match, in front of the entire stadium. ‘If it's too much for you to take, then you don’t have to,’ he said, like he could shoulder all my hate for me. Like he could shoulder all the world’s hate. He would take care of it himself if I couldn’t. He made me that promise then shut me right up.”_

_Gaara thought for a moment. “He has a way with words, doesn't he? Of chasing away darkness with them.”_

_“Stubbornly.”_

_“And your promise to him?”_

_Their eyes met in the enshadowed room._

_“I’m still catching up to him, it seems, but he's also the only one I could ever consider strong enough to be my rival, so I think I’m keeping it well enough.”_

_“Not even Lee?”_

_“I made a few promises. He’s included in that.” Neji didn’t bother trying to hide his smile._

_“You haven't fought me.”_

_“I’d rather save you.”_

_“You’ve done that already,” Gaara said quietly. “Twice.”_

_“Hm. Do you think so?”_

_“It's why I feel so safe with you.”_

_That smile… It would live in Gaara’s heart forever._

_Neji unfolded his arms and extended his hand for Gaara to take. Their fingers touched without any of the nervousness from earlier in the night, pulling each other closer until it seemed only natural to wrap around each other._

_Gaara had never been so comfortable touching another person so openly and for so long._

_“Thank you,” he whispered into Neji’s shoulder._

_“You're my friend,” Neji whispered back, into Gaara’s hair. “There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for you.”_

_His light was different—a reflection of the sun, like the moon that illuminated life in its absence—but Gaara gravitated toward it as much as he ever had Naruto’s._

***

Most of the lights were off by the time he made it back home. ( _Home, home_ —a repetition as much as an affirmation.) He padded quietly up the stairs to his room and sat at the edge of the bed in the dark. 

It was another long, long, sleepless night.

***

_“I thought for most of my life that I would never love anyone other than myself,” Gaara said._

_“Hate is easier to hold onto,” Neji said. “Especially when you’re kept in the dark about all the circumstances that led you to it in the first place.”_

_“But it's cold. And it's destructive. Sometimes I feel like I'll never recover from clinging to it so hard.”_

_“You're doing just fine right now.”_

_“You're biased.”_

_“Because I love you?”_

_Gaara tensed. “Don't say such a thing so easily.”_

_“And why shouldn't I? It's true, that’s all. No one’s ever told you that, either?”_

_“Just my family…”_

_“Family, huh? Those are the only people I've never heard the words from.”_

_Neji became lost in thought, and Gaara kissed his collarbone. Dawn wasn't far._

_“Hinata loves you.”_

_“She loves a lot of idiots.”_

_Neither Neji nor Naruto could be called_ idiots _, not to Gaara, but he wanted to press a different issue at the moment._

_“She never told you, though…?”_

_Neji’s arms tightened around Gaara. “I hated her for so long, I don't think I ever even gave her a chance.”_

_“You should tell her—before it's too late,” Gaara said, thinking of his own missed opportunities. “She's a sister to you, isn't she? I trust my sister most in the world, and she me, despite all that I've put her through.”_

_“Family is a strange thing.”_

_“What in this world isn't?”_

_Neji went quiet for a short while. Then he said, “I’ll find a way to make it clear to her someday.”_

***

Hours pulled at his bones, stretching across his skin as he lay stock-still in bed and let his mind rest then ramble, in turns. After another few hours passed until the hushed sound of sleepy rousing began to issue through the walls. 

Hinata’s footfalls came to a stop outside his door. “May I come in?” she asked. 

Gaara sat up. “Of course.”

She went right to sit next to him on the bed, angled to face him. The light was still off. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay,” Gaara said. 

Neither of them was surprised when she caught the lie. Her hands came up to either side of his face, thumbs falling under his eyes; they shut at her touch. Her hands were warm against his skin. 

She said, “You look tired.”

“Did you sleep well?” Gaara placed a hand against hers. 

“Better than you. I was going to ask if you wanted to help me with breakfast, but I don't want to impose if you don't feel up to it. Traveling can be draining. You have time to relax.” Hinata stood as she spoke and made to leave, but Gaara kept hold of her hand, following her downstairs to the kitchen. 

He let go and crossed his arms once they arrived. 

Hinata didn't miss a beat and passed him a pot. “If you handle the rice, I’ll make some eggs and chicken to go with it.” She winked when she handed it over. “You can cut some vegetables for me, too.”

Blushing, Gaara got to work on the rice. After that, he chopped onions, garlic, cherry tomatoes and scallions. Then he washed his hands and, having reached the limit of his usefulness in the kitchen, offered to round up the kids. 

“Naruto left for the day already?” he asked. Halfway through, he wished he could shove it back down his throat. 

Hinata’s expression froze for a moment before she smiled over it, turning to face away from him. “He stayed out working all night.” The heat of oil in the pan hissed as she dumped seasoned pieces of chicken into it. “If you don't have plans, you could take him a lunch box after we eat. I'm sure he'd love if you went to see him.”

“We can talk about it after the children have gotten ready,” Gaara said. 

He went upstairs and made sure Himawari and Boruto were awake before returning to his room to clean up a bit himself. 

Boruto and a headful of blond hair that stuck out in nearly every direction ran into Gaara as he stepped back out into the hallway. He was rubbing one eye with the back of his hand, a toothbrush balanced between his teeth. 

“Ahh, good morning, Uncle Gaara. Is Shinki here with you, too y’know?”

“Not this time,” Gaara said. “Should we make it a habit to come together for future visits?”

“It would be better if I could go see you, Uncle Kankuro, Old Man Baki and everyone else over in Suna instead, but I guess that will work for now, y’know.” Boruto shut an eye and smiled wide. 

It was as infectious as his father's had ever been. Gaara responded to it the way he always did—his heart reaching for the light. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. A smile graced his own face. 

“Nice, y’know!” Boruto ambled down the hall into the bathroom. 

Gaara shook his head and checked on Himawari, who answered the door bright-eyed. “Good morning, could you get ready for breakfast? It's almost done.”

“Yes, yes, good morning.” Himawari yawned into her hand. 

“Did you stay up too late last night, Himawari?”

“Well, I was reading a book—here. It got _really_ good _really_ fast.” She ducked back into the room and returned to the hall when she came back, the book she’d mentioned in-hand. 

It turned out to be a short story about a prince who was hypnotized by his own shadow or something. Gaara didn't understand the way she explained it, but he listened closely until Boruto finished in the bathroom, and she went to clean up. 

Downstairs, Gaara helped Hinata set the table. 

“So, Gaara, did you have anything to do today?”

“Actually, I thought I would spend the day with you—and the kids, if they want. I'm not used to having so much free time, but I know I’d like that much, at least.” 

He left unsaid that it seemed to be something she would have no objection to because she needed it, as well. They could support each other in that unique way they’d nurtured between them so sweetly and hesitantly like this. 

“That sounds nice.” Hinata wrapped her hand around his for a brief moment. 

Small, swift footsteps descended the stairs. Himawari appeared in the kitchen first; Boruto followed a short while later, and breakfast brought everyone together at the table. 

They discussed their schedules—Boruto had a mission and Himawari had business with the Hyuga until early afternoon, so Hinata thought she and Gaara could visit Iruka-sensei after dropping off the kids—as food disappeared from the plates. 

The room was bright with sunshine and warmth. 

***

_Morning light made everything look new. Gaara paid special attention to the sky that day when Neji left, but it wasn't supposed to be a significant point in time._

_(Heaven revolved.)_

_All too soon after that, the world descended into war, where they lost each other, and Gaara continued to lose even more than that—always stopping just short of his life._

_Not that it mattered, though. He had a death wish wrapped in a curse hovering over him this whole time, and it veered its head every few years without fail._

_The curse of assassination—as with every Kazekage to come before him—and he had gotten a head start on it thanks to his father._

_Had he even truly recovered from that yet?_

_Not likely. No… He was still working on that—on healing._

_New holes burst open in his heart all the time; amends stitched slow._

_He started with the returned Shukaku and simply took steps, one at a time, from there on._

_Sometimes, though, he wondered if he would fall prey to that curse one day too soon—if he would be whole by then or still filled with fissures caused by constant fear._

_***_

Gaara brewed a batch of tea while the kids and Hinata got dressed for the day since he already had. The situation was about as far from routine as a thing could be, but somehow familiar, too, or maybe reminiscent…

Hinata was the first to return to the kitchen; they shared the tea between them as they stood nearby the stove, their eyes never leaving each other. 

Some time later, Boruto came bolting through, grabbing a juice before sparing Gaara and Hinata a single sunny wave in his departure. When Himawari made it down, changed into mission training gear, Hinata put together a bento, tied it off then handed it to Gaara. 

“I'll see you later,” Hinata said. 

“Yes.”

She opened her mouth to say something more but stopped short. 

“Bye, Uncle Gaara! I love you!” Himawari said on her way out the door. 

It stuck in his throat, but Gaara managed to get the words out before they became separated. “I-I love you, too… Himawari…”

Just as the latch slid into place, Hinata’s voice carried back to him, although he couldn't hear what she’d said over the sound of it snapping shut. 

***

_“Acceptance” and “heart” made “love,” made him whole. Whenever he felt empty, he thought of himself as a vessel filled with all the love he had ever been given because, more often than he cared to admit, it was only too easy to forget he'd ever experienced any._

_He did, after all, have to deal the rest of his life with these sick, garbage memories of being told, “You were never loved…”_

***

Gaara finished the rest of the tea before braving the walk to the Hokage Office. He wanted to be less nervous for his first time seeing Naruto—most of all, though, he didn't want a reason to even be nervous in the first place. 

They were the oldest friends and considerably damned close; he should be at ease, the way he always was around Naruto. 

What was wrong with him? What was _nagging_ at him?

The thoughts spiraled down into deep rumination as Gaara walked. Before he knew it, his feet had taken him up stairs and through halls and over thresholds to stand in the Hokage Office before Naruto Uzumaki with all of Konoha shining at his back. He was a regular sunrise. 

“There you are, Gaara! I'm sorry I haven't gotten to see you until now, but I can't believe you're here—take a seat, uhh… Shikamaru should be back soon, too, if you wanted to bother with him. How have you been, y’know?”

Gaara processed it bits at a time, walking toward the desk Naruto sat behind; he rose as Gaara approached. 

“This is from Hinata,” Gaara said. He extended the lunch box made from their breakfast earlier plus a few fruits and veggies. “I didn't expect that you still weren't coming home at night.”

“Eh—” Naruto’s face fell somewhat, his eyebrows creasing in the middle. “At least let me take you out on a date before we get to talking about that sort of stuff, Gaara.”

He could concede that much. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind; I don't mean to take it out on you.”

“It's okay. I really do wish I had been able to meet you at the station, y’know. Hinata said she could, though…?” Naruto’s gaze pinned Gaara in place—a strangely lulling blue. 

Gaara felt as though he'd known it his whole life. 

“Yes, she and Himawari met me. I still can't believe how alike you and your daughter are.”

“That's a compliment, right?” 

“It's whatever you want it to be, but for what it's worth, that is what I meant.”

“I knew it.” Naruto winked as he grinned, and Gaara borrowed strength from it. “And about my other question?”

“You asked another question?”

“I guess it wasn't much of a question the way I phrased it, but I still meant to ask you y’know. What do you think about goin’ on a date with me, maybe later tonight? Or for lunch, if you aren't busy right now?”

Through a faint blush, Gaara tried to concentrate on anything other than Naruto’s eyes, intense despite his easygoing smile. “It's too late notice for lunch. Hinata and I are going to see Iruka today. Dinner would be nice, though,” he said, then paused. “It’s not like you to be so formal.”

If he had to describe the look that darted across Naruto’s face, it would be something like having been caught in a white lie, as possessing both a guilty conscience and good intentions. 

Naruto propped his arms up on the desk and leaned against them. “It's nothing bad y’know. I just had something I always wanted to say, and thought I could feed you at the same time. I'm really happy you're here, Gaara.”

“Enough. I get it.”

“Haha! Sorry, sorry. You know I'm not that great with words, I'll give it a rest now—”

Though Gaara disagreed—Naruto had a brilliant way with words—he didn't get the chance to say otherwise because the door opened up then. 

Shikamaru had arrived. 

“Hey, there, Gaara. You're not keeping Hinata waiting, are you?” He smiled. 

“Not at all. I'm going now,” Gaara said, standing. 

“See you tonight,” Naruto said. 

He never was one for subtlety. 

Gaara left it at that rather than address Shikamaru with his head so in the clouds. Hinata laughed when they met back up, and laced their fingers together as they walked through leaves and petals in soothing sunlight. 

Iruka’s apartment was empty, and he wouldn't be at the school since it was the weekend, so the only other place they could think to find him was at the hot springs with Kakashi. They had their hands full dealing with catching up in ten different ways between the three of them. 

(The newest class of bad kids and stressed teachers kept Iruka busy as always. Kakashi had taken up writing lately—“It’s turning into a novel, I think. No, not that kind. Well, not entirely.”)

Gaara admitted to social exhaustion within hours. As he and Hinata left, Guy and Yamato took their place, but not before stopping to talk for just a little while longer. 

It turned out pleasant, the way he imagined it might feel to speak to his father if they hadn't hated each other so much. Probably better. Yes, better—almost like talking to Baki. And there were _four_ of them. 

“You look tired,” Hinata said. They had made it back home and were quickly coming down at the same time. “You should take a nap while I go pick up Hima. Those old men sure are a lot.”

“That's one way of putting it.” Gaara was staring at the ceiling from where he lay across the bed. 

Hinata leaned over him, body tilted toward his and a hand against his cheek as she pressed her lips to the other. “I'll be back soon,” she whispered. 

Gaara turned his head before she could turn away, his own hand covering hers on his face. Something sharp gnawed at his gut at the thought that she might pull away; it lingered even after their lips touched, careful and so conscious of each other, then slowly, as they moved, it unwound. 

Still, they separated too soon. Gaara wanted to grab onto her arm—stuffed his own into the bed sheets instead. 

Hinata dropped a last touch to his chin with soft lips. “Sleep well,” she said. 

Then left him fast enough that, between one long blink and another, Gaara was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Hinata’s hands that woke him, with callused fingertips that traced along his sleeve.

Gaara went rigid upon awakening but quickly adjusted to the notion that she had made it back home from picking up Himawari at the Hyuga’s. “Hi,” he said, eyes still closed. 

“Hi. Are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you.”

“You're fine. Do you need me for anything?”

“Not really, but you have a date to get to, don't you?”

Gaara opened his eyes. The lights were off, as usual, and Hinata sat at the edge of the bed, her hand still stroking his sleeve. It was nice.

He tried to judge her tone, to see if there was a reason for the spark of quasi-guilt settled low in his chest, but, as expected, she wouldn't begrudge him a thing. Even this. 

“I'm sorry,” Gaara said. A blush lit his ears and cheeks. 

“Don't be. _Relax_.” Hinata leaned in to press her mouth against Gaara’s cheek.

This level of affection was somewhat new between them—budding from a different bloom. If her words said _don’t be_ , this was her testament to _you don’t have to be_. She took his breath away from him each time she did something like this. 

“Have a good time, okay?” she said.

“Okay…” Gaara reached for her when she pulled back but, without a way to put his thoughts into words, decided to leave it for now. He had time to get his head together first. 

Hinata's eyes caught light from the window as she smiled. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

That was true. 

Gaara didn't waste too much more time before making his way to the Hokage Office. The night had cooled off from the heat of the day already, a rustling breeze wrapped all around him. 

Naruto was alone in his office again. Given the hour, Gaara could only assume no one would be joining them any time soon, outside of an emergency. He crossed his arms, standing by as Naruto got ready to leave. 

“Everyone else released for the day?” he asked. 

Naruto peered right through him, the way he always fucking did. “You promised me dinner first, Gaara.”

Gaara shrugged. “You’ll have to forgive me.”

“How could I not?” Naruto came from behind the desk, leaving his cloak clinging to the chair, and stopped when he went to stand in front of Gaara. 

They had never been further apart in height and build than in the past ten years; standing so close together, Gaara had to tilt his head back and look up into Naruto’s eyes. It seemed like he took up Gaara’s whole world. 

That’s probably why he missed Naruto’s arms coming around him, bringing them near enough to touch and securing him in a strong, sure, _warm_ embrace. He couldn't be sure, of course, but it felt as though every nerve ending in his body came alive, eviscerating whatever numbness had remained in his heart, his wounds. 

( _Pathetic_ , he accused himself. Starved, he then corrected.)

“Ah, I see,” Naruto murmured. Almost enough to call quiet. He placed his bandaged hand against Gaara’s cheek and ran a thumb beneath his eye. It took no time at all for Gaara to realize Naruto was following the black marks around his eyes even while they held each other’s gaze. 

They were so close, Gaara could see the fine etches of Naruto’s whiskers where they impressed on the skin. 

“She was right,” Naruto said. “You do look really tired y’know.”

Gaara froze. _Of course_ Hinata would’ve said something like that to Naruto. Just because they didn’t spend all of every night together didn’t mean they’d grown any further apart. If even the smallest part of their relationship worked like that, both Naruto and Hinata would’ve stopped caring about Gaara a long, long time ago. 

That was a shit prospect. He could feel himself souring even as he tried to forget he’d ever thought it in the first place. Just leave it to him to ruin his own damn day.

“What did you have to tell me?” he asked.

Naruto smiled as he stepped back without even flinching at the way Gaara’s voice flexed in irritation. “Food first! Food!”

Oh god. Even the dorkiest shit made Gaara’s heart soar. It was a lot to handle. He rescinded out of his irate mood as quickly as it had hit, falling victim to being swept away by this guy. Just like he always was.

They chatted back and forth a bit before Naruto naturally took over the conversation and held onto Gaara's hand the whole way to Ichiraku Ramen. Any level of affection was expected from Naruto, but even this seemed sweeter than usual, _sugarier_ ; melting around Gaara to weld him in place. 

A swell of memories arose as the two of them proceeded past the doors into the restaurant together and took seats at the bar. 

“Two large miso char siu ramen with naruto fish cake topping and—this, if it's still good.” Naruto presented a taped-up gift certificate that the owner of the shop had given as a wedding present. He squinted as he smiled, handing it over, then faced Gaara once they were alone. “So you're here for a week?”

“Seems so.” Gaara couldn't keep up with his energy, but being confronted with it always felt so incredibly nice that he naturally wanted to match it as much as he could. That wasn’t the case today.

“Don't look so excited about it y’know.” Another grin lit Naruto’s face. 

“I am. I’m just…” 

_Dramatic_ , Gaara suddenly wanted to say. _Childish, dreaming_ —but self-deprecation never flew in the presence of Naruto Uzumaki. Soon, that way of thinking had rubbed off on Gaara, too. Only when he got so depressed did he sink into such unrestrained negativity, as was wont to sometimes happen.

Naruto reached under the bar for Gaara’s hand, which had been tucked between his legs, closed off as he was. Their fingers linked together in his lap, and he really didn’t care what it said about him that every bit of contact set him further on edge in the brightest, haziest ways.

“I know,” Naruto said. “You're hurting a lot, right? I'm sorry you had to come to me in order for me to take care of you, but I'm here.” His hand tightened around Gaara’s. “It's just—it’s gonna be okay. Try to remember that.”

With that open expression on his face and the way he held onto Gaara as though he could anchor them both in a hurricane—Gaara wanted to cry. Well, it was actually the last thing he wanted to do in a restaurant, even if it wasn't too busy, but it's what he _felt_ like he was about to do. 

He buried his face in his free hand, turning away from Naruto’s blazing smile. “You're too much.”

A thumb stroked across his knuckles, lulling Gaara further, and if this is what Naruto could accomplish with only a thumb, Gaara wasn't sure how he'd fare when the rest got to work. 

“I know it wasn't your idea, and I'm probably not the best person for you, but I wanted to see you, anyway, as long as you wanted to see me too,” Naruto said. 

The lack of his characteristic confidence spoke to missteps he’d taken in their relationship before—due to his own tunnel vision and inconsideration, admittedly—that had never quite dissipated even after Gaara assured him that the past could no longer harm them. It hurt to hear echo in his voice even now, over 15 years later, but, selfishly perhaps, having that pain validated in such a way... 

Naruto then turned Gaara’s hand over in his own and massaged his palm, fingers, wrist. His movements were nowhere near fast; more like deliberate and long and amazingly warm. The kind of ministrations that people performed with perfect focus in intimate settings—pointedly, for one, _not_ in a popular ramen shop, middle of the night.

But this was Naruto here. It wouldn’t be the most outlandish thing Gaara had ever witnessed him pull off before (and damn but did he have a way of executing stunts like this without even thinking twice about it; how did Hinata survive _living_ with this?).

“Sorry to say it again, but I really am glad you’re here. I miss seeing you between Kage meetings,” Naruto said. Little things like that dotted his concentration, and his voice sounded like the sun-honeyed wind that blew through the trees all over the village and nation.

That’s right—Naruto reminded Gaara often of tall, solid trees grown from solitary shrubs. The loneliest ones were said to grow the strongest.

He kept right on massaging Gaara’s hand.

By the time their orders arrived, Gaara’s face had been flushed a rose that only worsened over the steam from the bowl, old wounds long healed and forgotten again. 

Naruto, as usual, managed somehow to make matters worse—he put the back of his hand to Gaara’s forehead in a sensitive, compassionate gesture. 

“Just making sure you're okay since you got so quiet again. I'll let you eat now.”

The presence of a large ramen from Ichiraku saved what remained of Gaara’s good sense, thankfully. He dug in after realizing just how hungry he'd become. Naruto had already started. There wasn't a ton of room for conversation after that, at least for a while. 

At payout, Naruto grabbed a handful of fruit-flavored candies and mints from a bowl near the register, with a winning smile. The way it looked so natural on his face, anyone would have a hard time believing he had lived through a handful of human tragedies. 

So had Gaara, of course, but he assumed that much was painfully clear on his own face. 

***

Naruto steered them home, his arm latched over Gaara’s shoulders. “Say, do you want a drink?” he asked as soon as they made it through the door and shuffled out of their boots. 

“Not a drink,” Gaara said, “but I was going to smoke.” He hesitated, waiting for Naruto. 

“Hmm… care to share? We have some, too, so you don’t have to go home dry.”

“Either way is fine.”

“Let me go grab it. I'll be right back.” Even as he darted up the stairs, a subdued, mischievous glimmer lit Naruto’s eyes. “Don't go far.”

Gaara brushed off the assurance—though not without admitting to himself that he enjoyed when it centered on him. 

He drifted into the kitchen and, moving on automatic, set the kettle on the stove after filling it. His hands found mugs in much the same way they moved around his own home back in Suna. Eyes found containers full of teas as regularly as though he’d lived here his whole life. 

_Quiet_ wasn't a quality many could attribute to Naruto, but that's certainly how he moved through the house on the way back downstairs. He turned on the stove light to throw some relief over the space; no one needed more than that, between the two of them. 

“Do you want to take care of it or should I?” he asked, too close. 

Gaara eyed his right hand briefly. It wasn’t bandaged because it looked cool. 

“I got it.” Gaara ground up a pile of bud and packed it into a bowl, shoving it into Naruto’s chest when he had finished. 

The gesture created some space between them, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference when Naruto reached up to trap Gaara’s hand—pipe and all—against his chest before Gaara could dart away. Heat hammered into his skin where he could feel Naruto’s heart beating strong and sure. Not exactly at rest but _very_ calm.

“Come outside with me?” Naruto cocked his head toward the back door as he slid the pipe from Gaara’s hand.

“I was going to make tea.”

“Gaara. Please, come?”

Powerless, Gaara followed. The night shimmered around him, full of residual heat from the day still hanging around in concrete and in stone. Wind that passed through trees was blessedly cool, though, much like home, a relief.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I thought we could catch up on some sleep, honestly.” Naruto’s smile turned apologetic. “No different than the usual y’know.”

“So you're fine? Hinata’s okay?”

“Hey, why are you so interested? Did she say something to you?”

“No.” The blush deepened over Gaara’s face. “I'm just asking. I don't really know how these things are supposed to work.”

“‘These things’? Am I missing something?”

“I don't want to be an imposition. Especially if times are strained as is…” Even Gaara had to admit—he was fidgeting, somewhat. “It wouldn't be fair of me to distract you with my problems when you have your own to deal with,” he said, and gasped after. 

Because Naruto had gone right back to crowding up his space, as though magnetized to each other. Their chests touched. 

“What problems of my own am I dealing with?” Naruto asked. Curiously and darkly.

“I don't… know…” 

More like, Gaara didn’t know what to say, not anymore. 

“So, if my conscience is clear, yours will be, too?” Naruto’s mouth ticked up in another incredible smile before he leaned in to nuzzle at Gaara’s hairline. “That makes it easy y’know. I got nothin’ to hide. Do you?”

Gaara shook his head. He brought his hands up to Naruto’s wrists, while Naruto shifted his hands to cradle Gaara’s face. Jade eyes shut, almost on instinct, as Naruto tilted his face up and traced the shape of tired eyelids with sure fingers. 

A mint-fruit tinge of sugar clung to the space of their breaths, sweet all over again when Naruto pressed his mouth to Gaara’s, sealed together perfectly. At first, Naruto kissed him slow, letting their skin graze wherever it could and getting reacquainted with each other. Then his bandaged hand meandered down, up and back down Gaara’s side.

Gaara let go of his wrist. Not knowing what else to do, his hand landed on Naruto’s arm. 

“Are you okay?” Naruto asked. 

“I-It’s just a kiss… What do you mean…?”

“Your face is red, and you're all hot under your clothes.” For all that he was the one asking, Naruto sounded a bit out of breath himself. He didn’t hide it, either; his eyes were dark, even under the night sky. “Your heart’s beating so fast, it almost makes me dizzy.”

“Imagine being in my _skin_.” Gaara shifted against him. To prove his point, to give an impression of the restlessness going on inside him.

Naruto raised an eyebrow. “Why don't you show me?” 

“What…?”

Naruto waited for Gaara to catch up, then eased their mouths back together when it became clear he had, with each of them barricaded against the other under midnight starlight. 

Like something out of a dream. 

Gaara’s head went up in smoke the moment Naruto’s tongue touched his, trailing after the dream. He shifted back even as he clung closer. 

“P-Please, slow down…” His fingers dug into Naruto's arms. 

“I thought it was just a kiss?” Naruto said, putting space between them again. 

Gaara leaned against the wall at his back. “It is, but with you, that’s never the case.”

Naruto nodded in concession. He really was very, very guilty of getting other people to want what he wanted. He usually only used that power for good. 

“I’ll go slow this time,” he said. 

“Like you were going slow earlier?” Gaara asked. 

“I was thinking slower.” Naruto chuckled, somehow balanced between both a dark and light pitch, a trick he excelled in everything with. 

He tilted in close, careful to make sure he had Gaara’s full attention, before touching their foreheads together. 

Drifting, Gaara closed his eyes. Easy as that. 

Naruto made a soft, sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and shifted again until their noses touched. His skin lent Gaara’s a burning warmth as all the sounds around them settled into silence or something close. 

Finally, slowly, Naruto’s mouth touched Gaara’s, closed even when Gaara’s opened. He didn’t come any closer. 

A long moment passed—longer than the pause between forehead touch and nose graze—before Gaara gave up and pressed their lips together, meeting Naruto the rest of the way. It went on for a while, simmering as it built. A slow slide. 

Naruto was the one to stop this time, his eyes shaded while his smile still shined so bright. The contrast transfixed Gaara a bit. 

“Was that slow enough for you?” Naruto asked. 

Gaara couldn’t even manage to glare. 

***

A few more drinks and several more bowls followed, until together they migrated into Gaara’s room, fell into bed, tangled together, exhausted. When he woke the next morning, Gaara was alone. 

He shot texts to Shinki, Kankuro and Matsuri, but dawn hadn’t even broken yet. No one replied. That was fine. He wanted to go back to sleep, anyway. 

Between that thought and the next, he decided to text Hinata. _Are you awake?_

_Yes. Do you want to come over?_

_Yes._

_Come._

Her room—hers and Naruto’s—was still dark; sleep-warm. Hinata raised her head and patted the bed. 

“Come on.”

Gaara slipped in, hesitating halfway as he reached for her before she grabbed his hand, brought it around her back. 

They snuggled together close, a host of soft and soothing smells shared between them, with Gaara tucked under Hinata’s chin, like the most natural thing in the world. Her heartbeat surrounded him. 

***

Everyone had obligations for the day, so Gaara walked through town alone while returning messages and trying with absolute desperation not to prod too much into the state of the Sand’s affairs in his absence. Kankuro needled him about it without disclosing any details except “All is great, little brother. Worry about yourself for a change.”

The village had a widespread warmth that connected everything from trees to children. Nothing at all like the Sand’s, which spiked high during the day and disappeared altogether at night. It was the winds that connected everything in Suna. The breeze here swayed softly. Gaara felt it clearing his head as he walked. 

Eventually he wandered into the Yamanaka flower shop, out of sudden curiosity and convenience. The bell chirped sharp at his entrance. Bright walls and floors enveloped him, along with the effulgence of flowers. The scent reminded him of Hinata. 

Of Neji. 

Gaara’s heart stuttered. 

Ino chose then to pop up from behind the counter at the front of the shop. “Gaara? Is that you? So good to see you here! Hi!”

Jolted back to reality, Gaara worked to unclench as he approached her. “Hi, Ino, how are you?” 

“Fine, I’m fine! How are you? I know there isn’t another conference anytime soon. Have you finally decided to join the village? We can’t wait to have you.” Ino tilted her head a bit when she smiled, holding stem shears to her face (and in that gesture resided her second nature which he also knew well—that of a high-level shinobi accustomed to brandishing weapons with the same comfortable ease as those shears). 

Now, Gaara could take a joke with the best of them (which she knew), but his face mustn’t have said as much at the moment because Ino’s eyes peered over his shoulder, and she continued. 

“I wasn’t being serious, it’s just curious to see you around without something big going on. I’ll leave you to it now—” 

“You’re fine.” Gaara smiled. “You might not be wrong.” 

“Hm.” Ino seemed assuaged enough to resume her teasing tone. “Like you’d ever, though.” 

Gaara shrugged. “Who knows? There’s always retirement.” 

Ino laughed. “What, do it while you're young like Kakashi-sensei? Well, I won’t hold my breath. That guy hasn’t heard the last of it yet, even if he thinks he has.” 

“I’m able to leave my village in much more capable hands, though,” he said, thinking of a hundred shinobi as he did. Among them, his three young children. 

“Ooh, does Naruto know you feel that way about him?” Ino laughed again, all hot and bright, like a purple-painted sunrise. “Or did you want to get a flower?”

“Actually, I think so.” He hadn’t planned on it, but now that he was here, he may as well. 

He cast his gaze around once then reached for a flower from a multicolored bouquet nearby. 

“Just this one?” Ino said, reaching for it to wrap up. 

“Yeah.”

She handed the single flower back to him, coned in decorative cellophane and bound with a small ribbon. “Here you go. My gift to you.”

“Ino—”

“Please take it. It’s nothing. Besides, it’s for him, right?”

“Him?” Gaara paused. Who did she assume this flower was for…?

Ino blinked seriously, the shears pointed comfortably at her cheek again. “Neji? No?”

As if on reflex, Gaara gentled at that name finally spoken aloud. And she’d said it so affectionately, with such a casual air. Following suit, the weight surrounding that name began to dissipate in his own mind, where he had once let it crush what it was supposed to protect. He blew the dust off it and reconnected a few of the parts that seemed safest.

Among them was the thought that, now that he actually took a second to think about it, it had probably been the case all along that he’d meant to get a flower for Neji’s grave. He had never bought flowers for anyone else from this shop before. 

“I’m sorry, I… It didn’t occur to me that I had such a pattern.”

“Or that I’d care enough to pay attention?” Ino laughed again, smaller this time, as their eyes met. “Well, I do. You are my friend, after all. A damn good one. You know, you don’t even always get the same kind of flower, but you do always get ones that mean the same kinds of things. Of course I’d notice something like that after all these years. I think it’s sweet. _You're_ sweet. I love that.” 

Her smile shifted to something of a grin. 

“So take the flower and a well wish from me when you visit? I would go with you, but I actually have a mission tomorrow and a thousand things to do until I report.”

Gaara, for an instant, thought of Naruto, the way Ino filled out what Gaara left empty in the conversation, all with unmatched aplomb. Even more so in Ino’s case since she proved far more intuitive at such things. 

“Thank you,” he told her. “I’ll take care of your wish.”

“Thanks! You’re a gift, Gaara. Come by for a meal or something, sometime; Sai and I would love to go on a date with you soon. It’s been too long since the last time.” Ino made her way towards the back room, still brandishing the shears flippantly. 

“Of course. I'll get back with you about that shortly.”

“All right! See ya!” She waved on her way out. 

Gaara took the flower, filled with all the good and caring words Ino had just blessed him with, and set off towards the cemetery. He was calm as he walked, locked in thought, flower in-hand. 

The cemetery came into view a dash of blue stretched across the grassy green roll of hills. 

***

Afternoon approached in shades of amber; Gaara stopped at a tea house for dumplings and green tea. Anything else would probably upset his stomach. Perhaps the humidity had gotten to him. He made sure to order a water (with lemon) as well. 

Afterward, seeing as how he had no immediate plans, he wandered up the main village road. The muffled sounds of a crowd, of excitement, reached his ears eventually, which he traced to Lee’s dojo. That explained the thuds, grunts and “ _hyah!_ ” he heard every so often. 

He might be cutting it close, as far as verve was concerned, but since he’d spent the morning alone, Gaara wanted to check in with Lee. As with everyone else, it had been awhile since they last spoke in any unofficial capacity. Lee’s vibrancy never failed to inspire. 

The closer he came to the dojo, the more he noticed the amount of energy that emanated from it. Hectic energy.

Stepping inside, he saw why. 

A crowd crested beneath Rock Lee and Naruto Uzumaki’s shadow clone fighting hand-to-hand all over the dojo. Hardly a safe situation for those watching were it not for those two keeping ever mindful of their surroundings, and holding back as appropriate. They were moving fast around the dojo in efforts of being more flashy than explicitly practical. A bit of a show, in fact. Murmurs traveled through onlookers who hadn’t seen their top taijutsu user—not to mention their Hokage—spar, rarely, if ever. 

The sight seemed a callback to old times for Gaara. A wish of two unrestrained forces, Naruto and Lee, who fought all over the place, smiles on their faces. A show, indeed. They were having fun. 

Gaara crossed his arms and observed from the shadows, unnoticed next to the entrance. 

The level of their taijutsu never exceeded C-rank, but that proved more than enough between such powerful shinobi as Naruto and Lee. They darted around, elbows blocking elbows, shins crossing shins, despite having different techniques. They were like flashes of light clashing in the forest—the spark that jumped off two kunai in luminous arcs at the point of collision. Cheers swept the dojo, with overwhelming support in favor of both fighters, as expected. 

Gaara watched as they danced together a while longer before coming to an orchestrated draw. Everyone applauded, himself no exception if briefly. 

Suddenly, Lee caught his eye. Gaara expected to hear his name shouted clear as day over the crowd, and hiked his shoulders a bit with consternation, to brace for impact. 

It never came. 

A swirling thumb pad and shining tooth sparkle peered through the people gathered, instead. Next to it, Naruto grinned in his own foxlike way. 

Gaara shook his head, sighing, as he had escaped widespread notice for the afternoon, and acknowledged Naruto’s signal to meet on the roof. A flick of the eyes revealed Lee to be in on it, as well. Through throngs of fans coming up to shake his and Naruto’s hands, Lee assured Gaara of their rendezvous. 

They met on the roof minutes later. It was quieter up there. Windier. Lee and Naruto’s faces shone with the sweat from their display match. 

“You found me! Gaara!” Lee wrapped both strong arms around Gaara while Naruto stood by, as unhelpful as possible. 

To Gaara’s surprise, once Lee put him down, Naruto stepped up to him, placed both hands on his shoulders, and wrapped him in a hug, too. His heart must have skipped, shaken, soared against theirs, but no one said anything about it. Maybe the pounding of their own hearts masked his. 

He discovered himself the recipient of both their attention in no time at all. What to do with it?

“That was quite the performance,” he said.

Lee postured himself with his fists at his hips. “I am glad to hear you enjoyed it, Gaara! Besides, as the village depends on the strength of the people, I like to keep its most important person’s youth protected!” He pointed to his chest—an impressive shape, out of necessity, emphasized by the suit’s fabric stretched tight across it. “We all know how important hard work is, but too much makes one’s will go stale. Is that not right, Naruto?”

Naruto pulled his arm across his chest in a light stretch. “I feel loads better, yeah.” He smirked. “It's also a great way to generate a little excitement for the younger ones, I think.”

“Yes! The youth of the future!”

“I see. Well, it’s good to see the two of you,” Gaara said. 

“I could say the same to you. It has been a long time since I have been with the both of you,” Lee said.

“Heh heh,” Naruto said.

“Forgive me,” Gaara said.

“Oh, I was not placing blame on either of you. We have left our lives as simple shinobi behind long ago even though that is what we truly are.” Lee took hold of his orange border-patterned neckwarmer in contemplation. 

“Well, thank you.” Gaara paused. “You two don’t have to get back to your villagers down there?”

The numbers below had begun to disperse once Lee and Naruto disappeared earlier. Most of the stragglers lingered out front where Gaara could observe them from the ledge of the roof. He didn’t even need to infuse chakra to do it. 

“It is fine. We have done this kind of thing before,” Lee said. 

“Not me, y’know!” Naruto said. 

“No, you are right. It is rare for our Hokage—even a clone—to have time for such things. Tenten, Hinata, Shino and others have all helped me in the past. This is a first for you, Naruto.”

_Hinata!_

Naruto and Gaara’s eyes met across the roof on something like reflex. It seemed neither of them knew anything about Hinata duking it out with Rock Lee in his dojo during her free time. Thinking about it, though… 

Gaara, at least, wouldn’t put it past her, and he couldn’t see Naruto doing much of the same. 

“It really has been too long,” Naruto said, already sounding polite and rehearsed, “but I have more of that hard work to get back to. Lee, amazing as always seeing you.” He grinned (wide, tired), hand extended for Lee to take.

Lee’s face was suddenly serious as he reciprocated. “I am only too honored, Lord Hokage!” That customary intensity of his—signs of his passion and power—welled in his fist, clenched against the gathering of small tears at the corners of his eyes. A sight that would turn any other shinobi into a laughing stock and often had with this one in the past. 

However, Rock Lee hit a point in his adolescence where fierce tears against an even fiercer sunset no longer looked ridiculous but, conversely, _rigorous_. Full of vigor and vitality to exalt. Now, whenever he cried, it did something like move mountains. 

A few seconds and traded smiles later, Naruto’s clone dispersed, and Lee turned to Gaara. 

“Well, Gaara? How about it? Do you want to accompany me to the hot springs?” Lee asked. He still wore his cheeky grin. 

Gaara couldn’t think of a single reason to say no. 

***

How did the people of the Leaf tolerate living here? Heat and humidity all day and night _and_ at the hot springs?

Well, at least at the hot springs, Gaara could relax to the maximum capacity. Especially with Lee chatting him up at his side. (Okay, but he loved Lee, but who said such things out loud with no apparent reason and at the hot springs, no less?) In fact, having Lee around was a comfort. He hoped he could be at least a little bit of that for Lee, too. 

Gaara’s shoulders slackened against smooth dark rocks at his back as the heat of the water encouraged him to get lost in ruminations. Lee’s voice next to him filled his head one syllable at a time even after Gaara closed his eyes. He was still paying attention. 

They were close and alone—a fact that lulled Gaara as much as it excited him—as evening closed in. 

“So,” Lee said when skin and sky grew dusky, “do you feel like eating, Gaara?” 

The expression on his face read _danger_ , read _keep away_ , but Gaara knew better. 

Furthermore, he knew what that meant.

(He stole a second then to notice, for the first time, how Lee pronounced his name with such frequency and respect but also _fondness_ …)

“I don’t suppose it’s in my best interest to say no, is it?” Gaara said. He got eye contact.

Lee inched even closer, his eyes lit like the moon. “It is not!”

“I’m in your hands, then… Rock Lee.” 

“I will not let you down, I am certain! I would not steer you wrong, Gaara!”

“I know, Lee.”

“Let us go right now.”

“Are you done soaking?”

“I will wait if you want me to, but yes I am done.”

“No, I’m okay. Besides, I guess I am hungry.” Stirred at the mention, Gaara’s stomach pinched. Not quite hard enough to growl, though, even if Lee’s proposition of dinner began to sound appealing. 

They rose from the water together and headed back inside to get dressed. Lee chattered on about training with Tenten that Gaara promised himself to come by the dojo again to watch before he left because who in their right mind would miss that opportunity; then Lee grabbed Gaara’s hand and led him down a series of corridors to a low-key, sit-down restaurant. 

Lights turned about a quarter down lent ambience to the place, and Lee sat right away. Someone on the waitstaff greeted him from afar as he guided Gaara to sit as well. 

They faced each other across a modest wooden table for two, a single flower with spare saucers between them, Lee’s face as warm as the weather even missing its customary grin. He folded his arms over the edge of the table. 

“I did say I am ordering your meal for you, but there is a menu if you would like anything else at all, of course,” he said.

Gaara checked himself over mentally. “Just a water. And maybe some cinnamon rolls.”

“Oh, to take home, yes? I will make sure to let them know.”

Before Gaara could defend himself—or even figure out what exactly he wanted to defend himself from—a server arrived with all the familiarity and comfortability of a relative come to take their order, and Lee responded in kind. 

Naruto always said he thought of the people in his village as family, but it still somehow managed to surprise Gaara when he witnessed that philosophy extend through to the villagers themselves when he got _like this_. He’d lived through such times as when villagers rejected people like him—abhorred Naruto, abused Gaara, abased Lee, every chance they got, it seemed, and for so, so long. Respect replaced the antipathy at different stages along the way, but they’d each had to work so hard for it, and now the seamless smiles, the sense of coming back to a space known to always be filled…

Gaara blinked. 

The server had gone. 

And Lee’s grin had returned. 

“It will not be as spicy here as I prefer it, but I think it will do for you, Gaara. If not, we may have to take a trip.”

“No need, Lee. I promise.”

“Hmmm. I suppose I will have to take your word for it. Also, well, Gaara… You have been by to see Temari, right?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Did she say something to you? She’s always saying something to someone.”

“She is your big sister.”

“She is a worrywart.”

“That is also true, but we are only trying to make sure you are okay, Gaara. We know you like to take on a lot alone and keep so quiet about it. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m okay.”

“You will be,” Lee said, that smile snapping to life again, “just you wait, Gaara.”

Their drink orders arrived—Lee got a water, as well—so the topic shifted to safer shores until, not long after that, their dinners came to the table, too. 

A plate of rice smothered in thick, dark curry with all kinds of vegetables, spices and meat. 

Gaara hadn’t been feeling up to a full portion—and he still didn’t think he could put away this half-order—but the sight enticed him no less. 

Lee knew him well. 

Rather… maybe it was the thought of Lee’s intentions (and how well _he_ knew _Lee_ , too) that increased his appetite, even just that little bit. 

Perhaps a bit of both. 

Lee’s evil scheme, announced as it had been, was working. He picked up his spoon and got to work on his own food, unconcerned if Gaara ever did the same but transparently hopeful, of course. 

Gaara didn’t feel pressured. He felt only hunger. 

He picked up his spoon and dug in, too. 

***

The night air filled with the sound of Lee’s laugh as he walked Gaara back home afterward, very much like the blessing he knew it to be. It passed right through Gaara’s ears, sank so far into him that the darkness of his depression struggled, for the moment, to cling to his consciousness. 

“Thank you for the excellent night,” Lee said at the doorstep. 

“I should be the one thanking you. I mean that, Lee.” Suddenly, Gaara didn’t want to part from him. “Would you like to come in?”

Lee winked. “Another time, Gaara. I have to pick up Metal. Will you come by to see him before you go?”

“Of course.”

“It is a date, then! I will look forward to it!”

“Me, too.”

“I had better get home now. I love you, Gaara. Have a restful night, okay?” Lee took Gaara’s free hand in both of his, raised it halfway to meet him as he bowed and pressed his lips to the back of Gaara’s knuckles before returning it to Gaara’s side, stepping back, following the path that led outside the gate leaving the Uzumaki residence. 

Of course, Gaara was so stunned, it took several seconds to process what all had just happened, and by the time he did, Lee had already vanished. 

***

Himawari and Boruto were turned in for the most part—the clock read 10:00pm—but Hinata welcomed Gaara home with a clear gaze. 

“I was going to watch a movie if you feel like joining me?” she said, curled up on the couch. 

After the day he’d had, that actually sounded perfect. 

“Please,” he said. The hand Lee hadn’t kissed lifted to bring into view the carryout cinnamon rolls they’d ordered alongside their dinner. “Also, this is for you. Maybe have it as a movie snack.”

“Absolutely. Come on over here.” Hinata had a blanket over her which she flicked aside to make room for Gaara. 

He found it a perfect metaphor for the past few days. Or… even more than that, if he were being honest… 

Hinata’s eyes grew hesitant. “No?”

Gaara got it together before he ended up offending her further. 

They fit in perfect against each other on the couch, the thin press of clothes between them. The close contact seemed more consistent than in the past, but he was thankful for it—Hinata didn’t mind at all, for instance, that he kept his head tucked into her side while she picked at the cinnamon rolls with her fingers. She was soft in some places, hard in others, warm all over and traced the shell of his ear as they watched their movie. Fidgeted a few times beneath his weight, guided him slow into dreams. 

Everything went grey and quiet in lulls then all at once. 

***

The next morning saw to a few things:

Kankuro and Shinki both had felt the individual need to try and tell him an old friend of his had come back into town and disparaged the fact that they’d missed the chance to talk to him last night, but Gaara had passed right out against Hinata on the couch. 

He’d still been there when he woke up. Hinata hadn’t. An hour spent under the early sun out back while he returned their (and other) missed messages distracted him from that. 

With everything settled, Gaara returned to the kitchen, unsurprised at the surge of voices that came from inside. He passed his fingers through hair sticking out everywhere on his head, laced as much of it away from his face as he could, behind both ears. The light in the kitchen was low, and revealed two friends’ decidedly unsmiling faces alongside Hinata.

“Good morning,” she said, catching his eye briefly. Hers glittered. “Food’s on the table if you want some. Shino’s treat today.”

Gaara looked at Shino, who didn’t seem at all untoward despite his neutral expression (what of it could be seen with that mask over his eyes). It was actually for that reason that Gaara liked to talk to Shino—it never cost him much, and yet he always got so much in return, because they rarely bothered with extraneous, unneeded gestures or expressions. 

“Not home made, I hope,” Gaara said. He washed his hands and made himself a helping. 

Karui stood at the stove with him as he did. She didn’t so much smile at him as gentle toward him when they caught each other’s attention. 

“Not this time,” she said, “but we’ve had to suffer through that before. Consider yourself spared.”

“My cooking is edible,” Shino said. 

“Shino can make a meal,” Hinata said. 

“It will just be bland as hell,” Karui said. Grabbed a muffin and peeled back its sleeve. 

“True,” Hinata said. Shino had no comeback. 

“I think I’d try it anyway,” Gaara said, mouth full. 

“He says that now.” Karui sipped at her tea. 

Hinata weighed in again. “Meals made with love taste better by default, though. Everyone knows that. In which case, Shino definitely wins. Wouldn’t you agree, Gaara?”

His mouth was full again, but he nodded in accord. 

“If you two say so…” Shino tilted his face down, kept his voice even. Likely to hide the shy smile that had crept up on his face alongside a glowing blush at the turn in conversation. Gaara liked to keep his eyes on that kind of candidness. 

The expression vanished when Shino’s phone went off and he scrambled to answer it. Reading the name on the screen, he excused himself to the other side of the room, putting his back to everyone else to speak into the phone quietly. 

Gaara looked at Karui, who shook her head, then Hinata, who giggled. Neither were answers to his question, so he refocused on finishing his food before he ran out of appetite. 

“Well,” Karui said. “Talk to me, friend. Where have you been keeping yourself?” She migrated around to the living room to join Hinata on the couch, perching on the arm with legs crossed. “Must the queen hide herself away, hmm?”

“I don’t hide, Karui,” Hinata said, smiling. Their tones were sheer and blithe. “I have two incredible, impossible children to raise—and train when I’m not raising. I don’t want or need to be anywhere else right now.”

Karui laughed. “Right! Every time Chocho goes on a mission, she comes back asking to learn a new jutsu. Between Choji and me, we’re running out of clan hidden arts and village specialities.”

Surprising himself, Gaara said, “Maybe it’s time for her to find a sensei of her own.”

Karui rested her face in a hand. Her gold eyes glinted in the light of the room around them as they flicked over to Gaara. “Yeah, we’ve been thinking the same thing. Now if we could just come to an agreement.”

“Oh?” Hinata lowered the book in her hands. 

“Well, yeah! I want her to train under my master because Lord Bee is the only one I could ever trust with my daughter, but Choji doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to leave home for so long to train alone, of course…”

Hinata and Karui went back and forth for a short while before Shino finished his conversation and returned. 

“Sorry, everyone, that was Sumire. I have to go.” He paused to take Gaara’s hand into both of his in apology. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together. Hopefully I get to see you again before you go, but if not, it’s been a pleasure.”

For some reason, Gaara’s face flushed hot all over. He averted his eyes. “Thank you, Shino. Have a good day.”

That was a bit of an odd thing for him to have said, but, well… he’d said it. May as well own it. 

Gaara lifted his gaze—and, instead of the confusion he’d expected, found a smile waiting on Shino’s face. 

“I will. You do, too.”

Things remained quiet until Hinata stood from the chair. “Shino, let me walk you out.”

“Thank you, Hinata. See you later, Karui.” They left. 

“Sumire?” Gaara asked Karui. 

“Mm, she’s a genin in the kids’ class, if I remember right. There was an incident a few years back that interested Shino in adopting her.”

“Adopting—?”

“Yeah, Sumire’s his daughter.”

“I had no idea.” 

“Well, it’s not that surprising. It was kinda very closely tied to a village incident. In-house business. You know what I mean.”

He had no reason to know. He wasn’t Hidden Leaf. He was Kazekage of the Sand. For all intents and purposes, an outsider in this scenario, regardless of his relationships with their extended leadership. 

“But get this—I swear, he’s all of our kids’ dad, at this point—you know Mitsuki, right? The Sound ninja that’s taken a liking to our humble home?”

“The sage user.”

“Right. One-fourth of Team 7, Konohamaru’s kids. Well, when he first transferred here, he’d been staying at some small shack all by himself with barely running water and electricity just outside the village. As soon as Shino found out, Mitsuki’s been living with him ever since. It was a lot more fun than I’ll admit to his face getting phone calls in the middle of the night about what to do with awkward and emotional schoolchildren.” Karui laughed behind her hand even as she talked about it. “He’s helpless, you really should see him with the two of them running him ragged. It’s great.” 

Gaara returned a chuckle on reflex. It felt really, really okay. “It sounds familiar. Can't say I don’t empathize.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Her eyes flashed, in that mesmerizing way they had. 

“Plus one more, though I planned for it well in advance of Shino which… makes a difference.”

“A hell of one.”

Hinata’s voice rose from the doorway as she rejoined them. “At least I’m not the only one who got those phone calls.”

“Not anymore, though. Thankfully he got the picture after the first couple years. Not too surprisingly, he's actually taken to fatherhood like a fish to water,” Karui said, taking Hinata’s hand when she walked by. 

They folded in on each other briefly, Hinata between Karui’s knees where she perched on the arm of the couch, with an air of charm around them, all smiles. 

“I think I’m going to go, too. Will you walk me to the door, too, please?” asked Karui. 

“Of course.” Hinata gripped her hand tighter then glanced at Gaara. “I’ll be right back.”

“A pleasure as always seeing you,” Karui said to him, passing by. “You don’t hide yourself too much either, prince. We care about you around here. I’m sure Shino would’ve told you the same if his little girl hadn’t called. He always gets so scrambled trying to help his kids. Well, take care.” Waving, she left with Hinata. 

The kitchen seemed quiet with just him in it.

Soon, Hinata returned. 

“Sorry about that, Gaara. We used to meet up more regularly, but it had been a while, so when I woke up and they were both here, I felt terrible turning them away. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all. This is your home. Of course I don't mind. Besides, it was nice. It’s—” He stopped to take a breath. Hunted for eye contact. “It’s been nice, catching up with everyone, and staying here with you and the family,” he said, as seriously— _as sincerely_ —as he could. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for everything. I don’t know if it’s possible, to be honest, but I did want to make the attempt, anyway.”

“Stop that.”

“I meant it.”

Hinata sighed. “I know.” She outstretched her hand for Gaara to take and pulled him to his feet when he did. “We’re happy to have you. Really. Naruto and I have both missed you a lot. You look better, too. Less tired. It looks good on you.”

“Do you think so?” He hadn't noticed much himself, but come to think of it… 

“Some quality time spent with friends will ease even the heaviest burden, if only a little. It doesn't cure anything, but it helps a hardened heart to breathe a bit easier, I believe.” Hinata's eyes were steady as they studied him then narrowed as they closed over her smile. “Don't you think?”

There was something in her voice, a familiarity and sure-footedness discussing something so personal that people usually didn't like to talk so freely about (for some reason), that instantly captured Gaara’s attention. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes, trying to find what it was that bothered him about that. 

No—not bothered. Interested? Worried? 

The silence went on and on while he tried to parse it out. 

She didn't push for anything more.

“Hinata…” Gaara paused. “Forgive me for not asking sooner, but… how are you doing? Are you okay?”

It had been four days since he’d arrived in the village, and he hadn't even bothered to ask. 

As he said the words, he tried to imagine what kind of burdens Hinata might be shouldering alone while easing everyone else's. He had ideas, but it's not something they had discussed often or recently—and making assumptions about someone else’s past, their pain, was never in him to begin with. 

Her expression went neutral after a few seconds. Her fists clenched. “I'm doing well, thanks for asking.”

“That's not it. I mean, are you really?” he asked again.

“I'm not lying, I just…” Resolve sparked in her eyes then. “You don't need to deal with my problems on top of your own. They're trivial at best,” she said, and then smiled. Compared to her earlier smile, this one looked significantly sadder. 

Slowly he drew his hands out of hers, dropping to her waist. “Now, if I tried to say that to you, I know you wouldn't accept that.” 

She laughed, though weakly. “That's true.” 

His laugh answered hers. “So, if you need to talk, you _can_ talk to me. I'm here right now. You can't scare me off.” 

Some of the tension in the air simmered. 

Hinata leaned forward against Gaara but stopped short when they touched. “It’s really not that big a deal. And it's only been really bothering me again the past few months. I keep waiting for it to go away on its own. I don't know…” 

Gaara waited. 

“There are these—nightmares I have, these bad memories. I'm sure every shinobi who's seen battle has them, and it was fine when it was just that, but… Listen to me, I'm not even making sense. Can we go upstairs?” 

Somewhere secluded, less exposed, than the bright sunlit space surrounding them right now. They went to the room, sat on the edge of the bed together. The curtains were half-drawn. 

As she told it, between Boruto’s penchant for finding trouble on nearly every mission, Himawari’s genius with her Byakugan pulling on so many reminders of Neji and worrying over how much stress Naruto put himself through daily, long-forgotten dreams were getting tangled up with old realities in more and more confusing ways lately. Her family had changed so much since her loveless childhood that it became easy to replace the bad past with the present good and leave out all the rest. The loneliness always remained, though; it instantly connected every heartache she'd endured (literal and figurative) with needlessly anxiety-induced fear for her children suffering the same. Ancient terror twisted up and screwed loose, that's all. She couldn't hold it together all the time, that's all. See? Not a big deal, really. 

Gaara recognized a lot of his own attempts at invalidation in each one of hers. Every time he wanted to give himself a hard time, he told himself those same dismissive rationalizations. He made sure she knew those weren't true before he did anything else, and then they talked briefly on the rest until they were both calm again. 

There really wasn't any telling what the time was anymore, but once when Hinata laughed at a lame joke, she flinched back, softly and worrying. 

Gaara’s smile dissolved. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” 

“No, uh, I'm fine! I'm just…” Her voice went high and glassy in a way that it hadn't since she was a teenager. She pulled her knees closer together. 

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything,” Gaara said, beginning to withdraw. 

She stopped him with both hands before he even moved. “What? No, please, stay. It's nothing at all that you did, _Naruto_ came home last night.” 

It sank in suddenly, all at once. 

“I'm, um, tired, is all.” 

“That's all?” He raised his brow. 

Hinata stopped, in a moment that Gaara swore froze in time, and she pushed at his shoulder when she figured out his tone. “What, did you want to hear me say that I'm sore?” 

“As long as I'm not the one who hurt you,” he said, serious again. 

“No, not at all…” Their hands tightened around each other. “I actually feel really good right now, because of that. He was able to stay for a while and I’m pretty sure I slept so soundly, I drooled on him. It's always better when he's around—he can protect everyone else while I can protect him, when he's here. It's where he's safest so everything else is safe, too. That probably doesn't even make sense, does it? Never mind me.” 

“Well,” he said, thinking it through quickly, “I would say the same thing. You know how he'll act in any scenario, so you want to be there beside him, walk with him when everyone else is behind him… Yeah, I think I understand pretty well. You make perfect sense to me, Hinata.” 

“Thanks for not thinking I'm strange.” 

“Oh, I definitely think you're strange, just not because of that.” 

“Hush.” 

“No, I am happy you have ways to make it better, though. Itfeels good, right?” 

“It does.” She laughed. “He was in a really good mood, too. I'm surprised you didn't wake up before we went to bed. Oh, and I think you should go see him again.” 

“Me? Why?” 

“He didn't say anything, but he looked so happy to see you sleeping there with me. It’s those eyes of his, you know? You have time, don't you?” 

“I… don't see why not.” 

“Thank you for listening to my silly nightmares. I don't usually have so much trouble keeping my head above water.” 

“Well, you can only deal with so much yourself, like you've been telling me, right? And I didn't find them silly, so…” 

Hinata's breathing deepened as she put a hand to her chest. “I feel so much better now.” 

“Good.” Gaara smiled. “So do I, actually.” 

“Oh! Good, I'm glad.” She placed his hands around her back to draw them in together. 

They hugged each other, warm and relieved, until flashes of sunlight curled around the curtain edges. Pulling back, Hinata glanced at the clock on the wall before she faced Gaara again. 

“Listen, I have to go drop off Himawari with Hanabi in a bit. Do you want to go on a date afterward?” 

“A date? With me?” 

Faintly, she blushed. “Like a lunch date. I'll treat you.” 

It was Gaara's turn to blush. “It would be my pleasure, of course, but didn’t you just tell me to go see Naruto?” 

“It won’t kill him to wait.” 

“You have a point.” His brain was working again, at the same time as his mouth. “In that case, I hope it won't be too much of a bother, but I think I’ll be a bit busier for the rest of my time here. I don’t want all my promises to be written off for next time.” 

“You say that as though you haven’t been busy this whole time, already.” 

“Have I, really? I don’t feel like I’ve been doing anything.” 

“What? People all over the village have been coming up to me while I’m in town talking about how you’re everywhere. Someone thought you were here on a diplomatic mission, at first. It’s adorable. You can’t see yourself the way that everyone else does, but you’ve been doing plenty, Gaara. I can promise you that much.” 

What _had_ he done since coming to the Leaf?

Picked up by Hinata. Visited Temari and Shikamaru. Then those lively old men, Kakashi, Guy, Iruka and Yamato. Spent the night with Naruto. Then Hinata. Ran into Ino on the way to see Neji. Found and went out with Lee. Karui and Shino had kind of happened to _him_ … 

Well, it hadn’t felt like he was doing anything with his time, but perhaps he wasn’t as clueless as he thought he was at navigating his daily life. He did run a village, after all, with a title equivalent to that of the Feudal Lord of the Land of Wind, severe depressive episode or no. 

Or maybe, if he took two fucking seconds to think about it, he would’ve realized sooner that his shoulders didn’t feel as heavy, and his heart didn’t cramp at the very thought of living his life—it in fact reacted very warmly to the notion of being close to Hinata, going on a date with Naruto, with Ino and Sai, with Lee and Metal and all those other future obligations he had just sort of given in to, expecting himself to run out of steam long before he fulfilled any of them… 

Oh, boy. He sighed. 

“Hinata? Thank you again. I think I forgot what it was like to be able to breathe on the other side of all that sadness. I haven’t been able to escape it for a while now.” 

“Yeah, but… that's not everything that's weighing on you, is it?” She softened as she smiled again. Gaara discovered that it was actually an answer to the smile on his own face when her hand came up to his cheek, wiping fast-flowing tears away. 

He pulled her in closer as he cried. The only thing that stopped him was the sudden, pressing reminder that they were on a timetable here. 

“Himawari!” he gasped, drawing back. “Right?” 

Hinata laughed. “If you still feel up to it.” 

“I do. I’d love that. Come on, we should get ready before she shows up to hurry us up.” 

***

They beat Himawari downstairs by seconds, her backpack strapped to her shoulders as she descended, and she held Gaara’s hand while they walked together to the Hyuga clan compound. 

The trees outside the heavy gate cast speckles of shade across the ground. Konoha’s warmth always felt like a dream, soft, rarely stinging; much like Hanabi’s voice when she greeted them outside. 

“Long time, no see, Lord Kazekage,” she said, receiving Himawari, who went right away to prepare for training. “I’m happy to hear you aren't here on business.” 

“Fortunately not this time.” 

“You should come by and let me cook for you, if you have the time.” She shifted to look at Hinata. “You, too. I miss you, Big Sis. You have all the time in the world for Kurenai and Tenten and Kiba and who even knows, everyone else, but none for me anymore. What’s with that?” Even as much as she meant the words, she said them with a smile that shone. 

In another rare show of leftover childhood shyness, Hinata’s face briefly glowed rose. “That’s not true, but okay…” 

“Joking, joking! Jeez, that’s how you know it’s been too long. Right, Gaara?” Hanabi turned bright eyes on him. 

Gaara said, “I think dinner sounds like a good idea.” 

“Oh, really? Don’t let me intrude on you guys’ plans, of course.” 

“I think we have ourselves a date. I’ll let Boruto know so that he can wash up here when he comes to pick up Hima, and they can leave with us after dinner. Okay?” Hinata said. 

“Yay! Are you serious? I can’t wait, I’ve missed you so much, Big Sis!” Hanabi threw her arms out and Hinata caught her in a hug that radiated affection and adoration. 

As the youngest sibling of an older brother and sister who had suffered greatly—silently—on their behalf, Gaara could understand Hanabi completely. She and Hinata had been so close for so long and their relationship had only strengthened after the War… 

Hanabi withdrew after a moment, arms crossed over her chest, a super-cool Hyuga elite. “Well, it’s time I got to work. Don’t forget to tell Boruto or he’ll think I’m kidnapping him.” 

“You mean _again_?” Hinata said, taking Gaara’s hand on their way out. “You can get your own kids if you want them, you know, Hanabi.” 

“I know. That’s why Moegi and I adopted. There’s six of them between us!” Hanabi said after them. 

Gaara almost choked, but Hinata laughed. “Take care of Hima.” 

“I always do. Later, you two. Have a good day together.” Hanabi parted with a wink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is...dumb and gay and emo idk

**Author's Note:**

> this song and its title (vessel of stars?? ayfkm????) are too gorgeous to head this disaster of a fic but here we are


End file.
